Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Selfishness (05/14/26)
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TITLE: King Saffron | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
05/18/26 -
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The kingdom of the yellow shrimp sat atop the largest rock, near the driftwood arch, and close to the bubbling filter current. Carpets of waving emerald moss, polished black stones dusted with biofilm, and dozens of Ramshorn snails huddled nearby.
Where there were snails, there was food. Saffron’s antennae twitched proudly atop his perch as the tank brightened. Tiny bubbles strung up the glass like glittering beads, and ripples from the humming filter freshened the water.
The largest ramshorns were on the move nearby. Slow, patient, steady. Their mouths scraped algae from leaf and stone, unlodging tiny particles to drift upward as invisible treasures. Saffron swooped down greedily, snatching morsels before others could arrive. Mine, all mine, he thought.
A glossy black shrimp crept along the gravel. “Morning,” he said.
“This is my side,” Saffron declared.
The black shrimp bent his antennae backward. “The snails belong to all.”
“Not anymore,” Saffron said.
A large ramshorn glided by, crimson shell gleaming. Saffron climbed on top, vacuuming up the stirred sediment along its trail. “Mine!” he declared.
The black shrimp backed away toward the fern forest at the far side of the tank where the cherry shrimp glowed warmly among the floating frogbit plants under the shafts of light. Algae, biofilm, and plant matter was plentiful. Newly hatched little ones skittered along the outskirts, scavenging for something to munch on.
“Fools,” thought Saffron. “Sharing means hunger.”
The blue shrimp arrived by midday, without permission, and her sapphire shell attracted Saffron’s attention immediately.
“You have many snails,” she declared. “You can’t possibly use them all.”
“Mine!” Saffron declared. “Go away.”
“Why?” she asked.
Why? Snails meant food. Food meant strength. Strength meant safety. Safety meant survival. Did only kings understand? “These snails stir up the best particles, and places like this belong to the strongest shrimp like me.”
The blue shrimp nodded and withdrew to follow another passing snail, feeding off the cloud around it. Saffron rushed forward and bumped her away. “Find your own snail.”
Her swimmerets twitched irritably. “There are enough microorganisms for all.”
“Not here,” Saffron said. “This part of the tank is all mine, and these snails are my providers.”
The blue shrimp retreated, but over the next days the other shrimp continued to push at the edges of Saffron’s kingdom. The cherry shrimp tried to slip under the driftwood roots. The black shrimp grazed near the black stones. The large Amano shrimp, with his translucent body, powered his way among a prized cluster of snails. The Amano was impossible to intimidate, but one evening Saffron tried to push him away.
“You guard this tiny patch too fiercely,” the large shrimp rumbled.
“And you trespass where you don’t belong,” Saffron snarled back.
“We’re all healthier when we share,” the Amano said, picking up debris stirred by another snail. “I’ve been here the longest, and I know from experience. There is no need to be selfish. We live in a world of abundance and not scarcity. To share what we have is to build a better world for everyone.”
Over the next days and nights, the snails continued their work along the driftwood, the glass, and the large rock in the middle of the tank. Saffron sat alone as the others shared their own little space. The cherry shrimp, the blue shrimp, and the black shrimp, clustered not far from the Amano, near the anubias leaves, under the floating roots, and by the patch of moss. Somehow, they found enough to satisfy what they needed. Even the shrimplets flittered in the sunbeams, using their swimmerets to thrive among what was.
Saffron was surrounded by snails, with food particles all around, but no other shrimp attempted to invade his space. The yellow king pondered the reality of being alone. After days like this, the blue shrimp cautiously approached a ramshorn near the driftwood. Saffron didn’t push her away. When the black shrimp wandered by, Saffron shifted aside. The Amano went where he willed.
By late afternoon, several shrimps fed together in the wake of the snails plowing across the wood and stone. Saffron swam to the top of the heater and surveyed all below. The kingdom remained, but somehow, shared, it felt larger than when it had been only his.
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